in this evening.” David shrugged, helpless. “Duty calls.”
“I hope it’s nothing too serious.” I straightened, trying not to look as foolish as I felt.
“Nothing that can’t be tidied up in a few hours’ time. Perhaps you can come back tomorrow afternoon.”
“Oh. Absolutely.” I fidgeted, sidestepping toward the mudroom. “Again, I’m really sorry to have bothered you. I don’t know what came over me.”
David stood hands on hips. The collar of his robe stretched open, revealing a surprisingly well-defined chest. Not every computer geek could claim to be as toned as David. I lowered my eyes, embarrassed to even be thinking of him that way.
“No bother,” David said. “It’s always a pleasure. I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”
He advanced toward me. For every step he took, I backed up one, until I felt the hardwood flooring of the kitchen beneath me. I pivoted and almost ran to my shoes. David stood over me in the doorway to the mudroom as I fumbled with wet laces.
From the corner of my eye, I saw him hovering there, watching me. My heart launched into a frenzy at the thought of feisty little pheromones floating my way, making me want to be kissed. I focused on tying my shoes.
When I looked up, I noticed David’s fingers tapping almost impatiently on his crossed arms.
I stood. “I can’t imagine what you think of me, letting myself in like that. I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizing. I only wish I could give you that tour this evening.” He reached for my hand, bending over it like a knight paying homage. “Alas, I must needs return to my labors.”
His crummy Shakespeare imitation made me smile, even as my fingers sizzled in his grip.
“Okay,” I said. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
David’s lips touched the skin on the back of my hand, melting it with his hot breath. The noble kiss sent fire through every nerve of my body. He might as well have marked me with a branding iron.
When David lifted his head, I still tingled where his lips had seared me.
His eyes pulled me closer. All resistance was gone. I stepped into his arms, clinging as if I’d never felt a man’s touch before.
I leaned into him, soaking up the warmth of his body, the clean scent of his shower soap, the sound of his beating heart.
With his arms linked loosely behind me, life’s problems seemed of little consequence.
What did my past matter in the embrace of this man? Any ghosts were laid to rest in light of future happiness.
Who cared if my cellar never got converted to a rec room? I could let it go with David holding me.
So what if Rebecca was beautiful, successful, and made Rawlings what it was today? I, not Rebecca, was in David’s arms.
He gave a rasping breath and pushed me away.
“Go home, Tish.”
I nodded.
I turned my back to him and stepped into the cold, shutting the door behind me.
23
I stood a moment on the back porch to get my bearings. The wind had lost its bite, though I couldn’t be sure if it was due to the dissipating storm outside, or the raging storm within.
I’d accidentally turned off the back porch light earlier during my self-tour. Now I had to pick my way back home in total darkness. There was no way I was going back into that mudroom. Not even to flick a light switch.
I looked toward the streetlights out front and decided to take the long way home. I trudged through the snow, in no hurry to arrive at my destination.
The neighborhood looked enchanted in the snowfall. A few homes already had Christmas lights, even though Thanksgiving was still two weeks away. I looked with envy at Dorothy Fitch’s house across the street. Colored lights twinkled on shrubs and eaves.
A curtain in the window moved. I ignored it, chalking it up to Jack Fitch’s obsessive habit.
I walked on, tucking my hands in my jacket pockets. I’d never done holiday lights myself. The life I’d chosen required minimal baggage, and holiday decorations were definitely extra weight. Decorating for Christmas was something you did to make a place feel like home. I’d never lived in a house yet that I wanted to make feel that way. I always figured that if it ever became too homey, it would be too hard to leave when it came time to sell.
This was the first year, however, that a twinge of regret pulled at my heart over the matter.
I had no place to call home.
A car lurched over the tracks in my direction. I squinted in the headlights. The vehicle pulled to a stop at the curb.
A squad car.
The passenger-side window rolled down and the interior light came on.
“Tish.” It was Officer Brad.
What was he doing? Stalking me? He knew this was my night with David. How tacky could a guy get, tracking me down after my date with another man?
I stopped on the sidewalk, hands on hips, and glared at him.
Maybe he couldn’t see my expression in the pale streetlight, or maybe he chose to ignore it.
“How was your night?” His voice carried on the wind.
A blast of snow blew down the collar of my jacket. How rude could Brad get, asking how my date went? I tapped my foot, unwilling to answer.
“Come on. I’m just curious. Did everything go okay?”
Brad probably hoped to hear that I’d had a crummy night. Then he could forever hold over me that I’d turned down a hunky cop for a computer geek.
“I had a wonderful time.” I stepped closer to his car. “In fact, I hated to leave. David has such a beautiful place.”
Brad didn’t have to know that I’d never made it past the dining room.
“Yeah, but does he have a personality?” He looked away, then back to me. “Sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Apology accepted.” I leaned against the car, my head practically in the window. “He’s got more than personality. He’s compassionate and loving and caring . . .” I thought of the blaze brought on by a kiss on the hand.
“Caring enough to walk you home, I see.”
I gritted my teeth. “You are way out of line. I wouldn’t have let him walk me home even if he’d offered. Which he did, by the way.” I threw in the white lie for good measure.
I stepped away from the car and raised my voice proportionately. “Anyway, I don’t need anyone walking me home. And I don’t need you keeping an eye on me, or snooping, or whatever it is you’re doing here. Good night.”
I pivoted. Snow piled into my pant leg. I walked up my frozen sidewalk to the front door.
I closed it behind me and stood in the tiny entry, fuming. I kicked off my wet shoes. One hit the wall, marking up the fresh paint. Great. More work later. The stress of the evening threatened to engulf me.
Things had been going great until Brad pulled up. Why couldn’t he mind his own business? Jack Fitch was doing a good enough job spying on me. I didn’t need Brad Walters trying to scoop me out from under David, just as he had done with Rebecca.
I shivered in my damp socks. There was nothing worse than a big, old drafty Victorian. The house had seemed like a good idea last summer when it was ninety degrees outside. Boy, was I sorry now. I’d been keeping the thermostat at a balmy sixty-five degrees. But tonight it felt all of fifty-five. I wanted to jump in another shower
